Juxtaposed Lover
by Vole
Summary: [YAOI].[Hwoarang x Jin].[Kazuya x Lee]. One dark, sultry night, Kazuya Mishima proposed a deal to an audacious redhead. ...Seduce Jin Kazama in exchange for 100,000 dollars.


**_Title: _**Juxtaposed Lover

**_Disclaimer:_** Don't own Tekken, Jin Kazama/Devil Jin, Hwoarang, Heihachi Mishima, Kazuya Mishima, Lee Chaolan, or anyone else related to the game.

**_Warning: _**Rated R. Contains swearing (it's Hwo and Lee, come on), adult situations, and possible character promotion of alcohol consumption and drug use…blah-di-blah. No flames, please.

**_A:N:_** Severe, cliché, _borderline_-PWP. First Hwo x Jin (ehem, and Kazuya x Lee) fic I've written, so please forgive any OOCness. But most of all-- _enjoy_ (I'm being optimistic, here). :-)

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**_Chapter One:_** _Easy Money_

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"I don't understand what you dragged me here for, Mishima. There are better places to go, if you wanted to go out for dinner." Lee Chaolan groaned softly, watching the waiters and patrons drift in and out of the lobby of the ever-cheesy Le'dáll Viña, as he and Kazuya Mishima waited for their table. "I thought you were cheap…but not _this_ cheap." He shot a brief glance at the brunette, searching for any sign of dissatisfaction, any brief reaction-- any emotion at all; but there was only brooding…an intent, deep brooding that seemed all-consuming. "You're not listening to me."

"No, I am. It's rather hard to drone your squawking voice out of my mind."

Lee shook his head in disbelief, sneering with nothing less than annoyance, eyes shrinking into small slivers. "What is it that you're wasting my time for, again? Not that anything I ever do with you is not a waste."

"And yet you still follow me around like a puppy."

"_You_ brought _me_ here, Kazuya. Or did you forget that already? Perhaps you're not aging gracefully..."

"Perhaps you have not aged at all. What a child…"

Lee huffed out a short breath, "Goddamn you. Just tell me what we're here for."

"A candidate."

"Candidate? For what, exactly?"

"For an experiment."

"Bastard. How can you always be so short about everything?"

"You just don't ask the right questions." There was a slight hint of humor in Kazuya's voice, although his face would never show such emotion.

Lee grumbled something low beneath his breath, "If you weren't such a good fu--"

"Um…Mr. Mishima, Mr. Chaolan, your table is ready." A young hostess spoke up, interrupting him, a bit of a shake to her voice. She had obviously been listening to their conversation and was less than comfortable with the direction in which it was heading. But that was her fault. Served her right for eavesdropping. "Please follow me." She blushed a bit under their watchful, waiting gazes.

"Thank you."

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"So tell me what we're looking for-- in detail." Lee took a drag of his cigarette, blowing a gentle puff of smoke in Mishima's direction. "And none of your 'candidate' bullshit."

"Find a young man who would look good with my son."

"What? You're his matchmaker now? I thought he was fucking that pretty, little thing… 'Miharu', was it?"

"As far as I have heard, there is no fucking involved. Jin is not moving as steadily as I had hoped."

"_Oh?_" Chaolan could not keep the curiosity from his voice, "So your son is not taking her bait?" He smiled a lewd smile.

"Assuming there is any, no."

"Hmm…well, look at that. Little Jin Kazama. He's either a very polite gentleman…or a fag. Like father like son, I suppose."

Kazuya snarled a ferial, throaty noise, warning his guest to keep the crudeness to himself. "You talk too much."

"If I recall, it is you who does most of the vocalization-- at least when we fuck."

"Shut your arrogant, little mouth, or you _will _regret it."

"I'm sure I wouldn't. But I'll give you a few minutes to find your _candidate_. …And to cool down." Chaolan lazily rose to his feet, smashing his cigarette in the ashtray that lay just beside the table's cheap centerpiece, a smug leer on his face. "Not that I don't enjoy seeing you sweat a little."

"Go."

"I'll be at the bar, if you need me."

"I won't." Kazuya bit back, trying his best to save what little dignity Lee had not yet sucked from him. He had won the first battle, but was clearly at a disgraceful loss, this time around.

"I'll be sure to remember that tonight, when you come to my room, begging for a good fuck."

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Kazuya had little time to bother himself with the lasting aggravations of Lee's comments, before a youthful redhead, sitting in the far corner of the restaurant, suddenly caught his eye and set his mind back on its original task… He needed to find someone to help him perform his experiment; and the redhead seemed, just by a glance, like the perfect person.

"Sir Mishima, is there anything I can get you?" One of the many nameless waiters, who struggled to make a living working there, stepped up beside his table, looking down at him expectantly.

"Yes…" He placed a thoughtful hand against his chin, "Would you mind walking to that table over there--"

"Which one, sir?"

"The one with the redhead and that older, brown-haired gentleman."

"Ah, I see it. Table seventy-two." The waiter nodded vigorously, obviously aiming to please. "What would you like me to do?"

"Ask the boy to come and speak with me."

"What should I tell him, if he refuses?"

"Just tell him that it's important. If he refuses, do not bother to ask twice."

"Yes, sir."

A moment or two later, the waiter had one hand resting lightly on the redhead's shoulder, as he led him through the sea of tables, toward Mishima.

He was quite the looker, Kazuya could admit. With his lengthy, tousled, red hair, dark, daring eyes, and devil-may-care attitude, he was anything but ordinary-- especially when standing next to the rather common-looking waiter.

A white, sleeveless tee clung to his upper body and showed off-- to all who cared to look-- the numerous muscles he owned; it slipped down over them to half-cover the buckle of a black belt, and wrinkle slightly against the pair of jeans he wore, which were ornamented with a handful of silvery chains that seemed to scream out 'rebel'. Ebony-leather biker gloves fit snuggly over his hands, which he promptly shoved into his pockets as he neared the brunette. The steady clap of his polished riding boots drilled against the floor, growing slowly louder and louder.

He was a definite _candidate_. A perfect contrast to everything Jin Kazama was. A perfect lure.

When the two had reached their destination, the waiter seemed more than pleased with himself, and the strange, young man more than uncomfortable; he shifted from foot to foot, staring dumbly at the man who had mysteriously summoned him.

"Here you are, sir. The young man you requested."

"Thank you," Kazuya nodded curtly. "You may go."

"As you want, sir." And the waiter left, disappearing into the depths of people, excitement and noise.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Hwoarang…" The redhead shoved a hand toward Mishima, hoping for a handshake; but he got nothing of the sort, Kazuya dismissing his hand instead. So much for being cordial. "_Yeah_…okay, so who are you and what do you want?"

"It is rather simple, boy. Please sit."

Hwoarang seemed to hesitate a bit, before pushing his fear away and taking the proffered chair.

"I am Kazuya Mishima, one of the presidents of the Mishima Zaibatsu," Kazuya drawled out, as soon as the redhead was seated, "And I need your help."

"My help? What could a fucker like me do for someone like you?"

"Seduce my son and I'll give you one hundred thousand dollars."

A wild, skeptical grin took over the redhead's face. This guy couldn't be serious. Selling his son? What was this? "That's crazy. I think you've had too many drinks." He moved to stand up and leave, but Kazuya grabbed for his arm before he had the chance, pulling him back down.

"I am quite sober."

Hwoarang sneered, shifting a nervous thumb against the tabletop, watching the hand that clutched him with a goaded tick. "…_You_ want _me_ to seduce your son? Hey…I may be new here, but I can see that you must be someone pretty important. What could you want with a nobody like me? Why not hire a professional, or something?" He muttered, not quite believing that any part of the ordeal was truly real. A major CEO of some company he couldn't be bothered to remember was there, talking to him, asking him to sleep with his son. Things like that only happened in films.

"I am always up for giving young, virile men the opportunity to make a few dollars."

"By sleeping with your son?"

"I believe that that is what I requested of you, yes." He drew his hand back, allowing Hwoarang freedom.

"Why? Why would you do that?"

Kazuya cocked his head, lip twitching in faint irritation. If only the boy did not ask so many questions… "I do not believe that that is any of your business."

"If you want me to do it, you'll make it my business." Hwoarang could not believe that he was even giving this crackpot a chance to explain his twisted ploy. But there was quite a bit of money involved, and he had to admit that he had been wanting to purchase a new motorcycle. One hundred thousand dollars would be more than enough to do that…and then some.

Mishima grunted, throwing him a long, hard glare. But there was no getting around a young man's curiosity or stubbornness, he knew…even if he had quite a lot of it, himself. "…We are looking to expand our Mishima Corporation." He surrendered stiffly, "To do that, we have planned a merger with another company, Hiranoto Inc. However, as it just so happens, the president of Hiranoto has a daughter whom my son is dating-- Miharu Hirano."

"That's enthralling, really…" Hwoarang went slack in his chair, throwing an arm across the back, huffing out a long, stale breath of air, "Get to the point."

"You have no patience."

"I've been told that a lot. Get to the point, _please_."

"Hn… I have heard, from very reliable sources, that my son has not been telling me everything. There is a chance that he may be gay." The brunette let his eyes stare past Hwoarang to something far off, gaze glassing over for a moment; he seemed almost ashamed, irritated that he did not know for sure, that he had to rely on rumors to fuel his knowledge of his family. "If it is true, there may be complications in his and Hirano's relationship that could influence my dealings with Hiranoto's president."

"So you want me to fuck him and save your little company time wasted, if he were to continue on with this _'Miharu'_ and eventually hurt her? So she doesn't go crying to daddy about how bad she'd been hurt by a Mishima?"

Kazuya half-smiled, head nodding slowly, "Smart boy."

"And what makes you think I'm gay? What makes you think I want to sleep with your son?"

"As much as I enjoy your smart lip, boy, I can go other places, if you do not want any part of it. There are many men who would not turn down this kind of deal."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. I just want to be sure I've got all my bases covered." Hwoarang straightened up, as if signaling his abrupt willingness to cut a deal with the executive sitting across from him. One hundred thousand dollars… It _was_ a lot of money. And so what if he had to sleep with another guy? There had been those times before… It could actually be fun. Anyway, there was no saying that this 'son' was actually gay. Maybe the guy would turn out not to be, Hwoarang wouldn't have to do a damn thing, and he'd still end up getting paid. …Besides, the girls he'd been dating had gotten boring, so this might've been just the experience his body craved to spice up his sex life, if things went well. It was time for something new… "_Mr_. Mishima, I'll do this thing for you, as long as you promise me some money up front and a place for my master and I to stay. We're a bit…out on our asses, right now."

Kazuya smirked a little, in spite of himself, quite pleased with the stamina of his 'business partner'-- even if the redhead was an annoying, little piss. "If that is what you want, then I think we have a deal. I'll give you twenty thousand up front, and the rest when it's all said and done."

"So, let me just get this completely straight. You'll give me twenty thousand now-- no questions asked-- and another eighty thousand _and_ a temporary home for myself and my master, if I get your little boy into bed with me? And that's all I have to do?"

"That is all you will be required to do. But you need to have proof that you fully accomplish the task-- or no money."

"And what would that _proof_ be?"

"Take one of his feathers."

Hwoarang could not help but suddenly lose all comprehension he had had of their conversation. _Feather?_ What? "_…_What? What do you mean?"

"Trust me. You will understand."

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After they had discussed the arrangements a bit further, Hwoarang abandoned his place at the table, and things seemed to grow abruptly quiet. No distraction was there, now, to help Kazuya stave off Chaolan's comments, anymore; they echoed boldly in his mind, as if they had just been said, mocking him over again.

Mishima drew an irritated hand around the stem of his wine glass, watching the red liquor swirl smoothly about the curve of the cup, vainly trying to force his thoughts off of Lee and his provoking remarks. What gall he had to say such things, in the first place?

…But, no, that was just his way. There was no mystery about it. It was simply in his nature, an uncontrollable trait that he had developed over the years…a trait that made him continuously strain things between them until Kazuya felt that he could no longer control himself. …And then, all Lee would have to do was wait for the brunette to come to him and quench his tensions-- usually by way of hard, fervent sex.

But Mishima would not let anything of the sort happen, that night. He would not go to Lee. Lee would come to him…just as he was doing now, wandering through the crowd to the table, a proud grin on his face; it was plain to see that he was still reveling in the triumph he had had over his lover, half an hour before.

"If anyone will come begging for sex, it will be you, dear, sweet Chaolan…" Kazuya smirked, the words conjuring images and ideas in his mind. Hwoarang would not be the only one to seduce someone…

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Wasn't too bad, I'm hoping.

This'll only be a few chapters long, if anyone actually wants me to continue. Review, possibly? Let me know what you'd like me to do.


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